


Sunlight.

by bianccalove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Lesbian Sex, Murder, Not a self insert for fucks sake mate, There will be sad moments, dragonfire, reader is female, shes healing and mourning yall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bianccalove/pseuds/bianccalove
Summary: Victory, and then her Death. Drogon had brought her to you, magic was your only hope for bringing her back. Jon snow will pay, with Fire and Blood.
Relationships: Daenerys Targaryen/ Female Reader, Daenerys Targaryen/Reader, Previous Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 33
Kudos: 92





	1. Resurrection.

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who has grew up with Daenerys Targaryen, I know many of us love her dearly. She was (and is) our strength, a light. Sunlight. So I hope you enjoy this, and I do her some Justice.

The smell of the sea greets your nose as you step outside of the temple. The Freedmen shouting and children playing in the streets from Queen Daenerys' victory. You smile at their joyous affection—you were proud to call her Your Queen. 

_How long had it been?_

The thought of seeing those gentle eyes and silvered hair had a smile rising at the corner of your lips. Yelling begins in the distance, your head jerking up at the thundering roar and large wings that were above you. 

_Drogon._

Your breath catches at the body in his massive claws. One with silver curls and pale skin. 

“No,” You whisper. _It's not her, it can't be_.

You look up at Drogon, his scales bristling as he meets your eyes. As if to say, _"Yes. Yes it is."_

"Drogon!" Kinvara shouts, running down the steps and shouting at the priestesses. She met your eyes with a quick nod, and with a look of permission from Drogon—began inspecting her body. 

Priestesses ran down the steps to help Kinvara. Both you and Drogon are only able to watch as they carry her body inside. Over the next few hours, the wait was torturous. Kinvara prayed for hours on end. You sat outside with him, a worried frown had etched into your brows. He was barely eating, but you couldn't blame him. His mother was dead, and neither of you knew if you would ever be able to hear her soft voice again. He let out menacing roars as she shuffles around, ones of anger and others that sounded like wails. _He was crying for his mother._

The next day they let you see her. The green eyed priestess steps out of the room, her gown dirty and face full of exhaustion, "Y/N," she greets you gently, "Now, we must let the Lord of Light do his work." 

You clasp her hands in support, letting her retire to rest. Anxiety pulls at your chest as you step inside the room. The smell of herbs and firewood greeting your nose as you eye Daenerys’ body. She lay in the middle of a blanketed pallet, the torches on the walls sending shadows over her face. But when you look at her, you knew she was cold without touching her skin. You kneel at her side, the silence bearing down on the fact that you were the only one breathing. A part of you still waiting for her chest to move. 

"Dany?" you whisper. 

Your hands toy with the red silk covering her, pulling and straightening the cloth as you hold back your tears. What you felt was not one emotion, but many. Anger, desperation—You felt like you were drowning. Just a few weeks ago, had you not been right beside her? Her red cheeks warm and smiling, both of you determined to avenge Missandei’s death. 

_Missandei._

Tears began to fall down your cheeks, even as you try to stop them. Your hands digging into the silk and stone floor. You didnt know how long you stayed with her, knees stiff when you finally stand to leave. 

You return to her a few hours later, speaking softly of your memories and fears in the silence. Hoping that she would find the will to return to you. The news of her death and Jons betrayal rang through Westeros. You sent word to Dorne, letting the Princess know of the changes that were—and are happening.

It was the second day after Drogon had brought his mother that you began to lose hope. You had begun to come to terms with the fact that she may not wake up. _Ever._

Your shoes tap lightly along the floor as you enter the room, heart--heavy. The candles had burnt out around her, and somehow it felt like your heart went with them. You kneel beside her, taking her hand in yours gently. "I hope that you are home." You whisper, your face pressing into her cold palm, "In the warm sun by the sea, with all those you have lost." 

Minutes pass as you clutch onto her hand, and finally you gather the courage to say goodbye. Your words are low in the soft light. You place her hand gently beside her, turning away only to be jerked forward by ice old hands—you’re face to face with wide clouded violet eyes.

“Dany," you gasp, watching as her brows pinch together as she slowly gains awareness. 

  
  


Daenerys looks around the room, heaving in air before her face distorts in pain. She lets out a sound akin to a wail, rising to her feet and stumbling out of the room. You run after her, almost falling on your dress as she cries out for Drogon. He was already landing as she steps outside, bellowing in what sounded like cries as Daenerys strides to him. She grasps his face in comfort, whispering as he curls his wings around her small body. 

Kinvara steps outside beside you with robes in her hands. After a few moments Daenerys turns her head towards you both, face void of emotion. "If I may—my queen," Kinvara begins, waiting for her permission. 

Dany sends her a silent nod. 

"There will be a time for vengeance." She steps down, meeting her halfway, "You must rest." 

As they pass you hear her whisper, "And mourn." 

You were surprisingly hurt by her evasion of saying anything to you. But guilt rests in your heart at the thought. She had been dead—and lost everything. You would be satisfied with being part of her life, even if a small piece. She walks with Kinvara inside, both of them immediately taking to the baths. 

The night was long, and you wrote of news to Dorne. You pull the furs closer at the cold wind blowing through the temple, eyeing Drogon outside the windows. 

"Y/N." Daenerys greets you. 

You turn to her, a breathless gasp in your throat. Her silver hair tightly coiled in a long braid that swayed behind her back, dress heavy as she steps beside you. 

"Khaleesi," you return, meeting her eyes with a troubled smile.

You were almost afraid the color wouldn't return to them, but you we're wrong. They were burning violet—continuously observing as she moves closer to the window. "Much has happened, since we last saw one another."

You nod, your chest aching at her words. _So much._

Daenerys clasps her hands, "Y/N?" Her violet eyes fixing on yours, "I have no heart left for mercy. Do I have your loyalty?" 

Your brows pinch together, there was so much you wanted to tell her. Grief still near in your heart. But you spoke quickly, with honesty on your lips, "You have my life." 

Her eyes turn toward the window as she looks at the sea. Before she leaves, a gentle hand touches your shoulder. You turn quickly enough to see the silver in her braid, her fingertips running along your skin as she pulls away. 

Kinvara approaches you later that day, a frown on her face. "Her Grace has gone to Mereen, she will return after some time to heal and lay plans." 

Taking in the news, you blink in surprise. Trying to mask your disappointment, "We will be ready for her decision." You reply. 

At night you mourn her death. Perhaps you should be happy she was back, and you were. _You were._ But her lifeless on the temple floor never left your mind. All the pain she had suffered, to be betrayed by someone she had _trusted_. 

"Valar morghulis," you whisper to yourself at that moment. _He would pay for what he had done,_ _with Fire and Blood._


	2. Chapter 2

Dany had given you orders. You were to sail to Dorne, and there she would have an audience with Princess Arianne—and then make for Kings Landing. 

Dorne was welcoming at your arrival. The heavy spices and smiles brought back memories as you pass through the streets full of bazaars. The Palace Stones shine in the light of the sun, the beauty drawing a gasp from your throat in reminder.

As much as the Palace drew you to it, it was not what made you feel like home. No, it was the people—it was Arianne. 

She stood beside her throne as you enter, dark hair flowing across her shoulders with gold chains entwined in her curls. 

"Y/N," she says, stepping down to you with a smile on her lips. 

Her greeting was full of warmth and you found yourself with an equally large grin on your face. 

"Princess," you mumble. 

The smell of earthy perfume fills your nose as she wraps an arm around your shoulders. Guiding you to the nearby war room, "I am glad to see you are safe. Tell me Y/N, are the rumors true?"

Your brows furrow at her question. You thought about whether it was better to be diplomatic or honest with her. But Arianne was not a foreign Queen, she was your friend and Princess. 

"Daenerys has lost many things, her lover betrayed her. Killed her." You began, "She mourns, and is taking back what is hers. But not with murder and insanity." 

Arianne is silent for a few moments, her mind clouded in thought. "Men would have us pitted against each other." She presses her lips tight, "Yet Daenerys has succeeded when most have not. Dorne will honor its promises, we will aid in her conquest." 

You reply, nodding at the smile that rises on the corner of her lips. That smile was one of many words, and you had known her long enough to understand that Dorne was always her first priority. Arianne was honoring her fathers word, but in the same action—making a move based on this alliance. 

"You will ask for Dornes independence,"

Arianne smirks at you, her hair falling over her shoulder as she leans back. "Yes," she states, "I will _demand_ it." 

**➳ ➳ ➳**

You were outside Arianne’s Solar the next full moon, your arms crossed along the open window as you look across Dorne. 

Dorne was still as you search the night, the palace yard alight with torches along the walls. Your gown brushes against your legs at the movement behind you, a shadow passing through the silhouetted guards. 

You follow the figure to the doorway in which Arianne was in now. She always kept the door open and guarded—curtains placed instead for privacy and the open breeze. But now it was an easy weakness, and you found your heart racing. 

Perhaps if it was some else's life, you would have been spared the need to kill. Maybe spared your suffering at all. But here you were, and you would not let this world take anyone else from you. 

And so you were pushing through the golden curtains, your spear gripped tightly between your hands. The first step was always the hardest, the one that lead to the attack itself. 

Your knees brace against the floor, using the momentum to thrust your spear into their chest. Metal clamors to the marble as they drop their weapon. When you look up Ariannes eyes were wide, hands gripping the pages that were now torn in her book. 

The man chokes silently as he dies, falling to his knees—your spear still in him. 

You stand still for a moment, stepping on his back for leverage to free your spear. Your eyes move to the Princess again, but she was looking past you. 

You turn in confusion, meeting Dany's wide eyes in the doorway. "Dany," you whisper in surprise. 

Her lips were pressed tight as she looks at your bloody state.

For her to see you like this, killing someone in such cold blood. You were afraid she would hate you for it. 

"Princess," Daenerys greets, jaw clenched as she looks at you. 

Arianne doesn't speak for a moment, but stands and kneels beside the dead man on the marble floor.

Daemon rushes into the room, kneeling at her side and pushing the hair from her face silently. She nods to him, one hand gripping his wrist before he presses a kiss to her jaw. 

You knew that they didn't need words to know how she felt. He stands at her reassurance, waiting as she searches the body. 

Arianne nods—and Daemon began dragging the body out. 

Daenerys meets your eyes, and you see anger in them. And pain. You step toward her, but she shakes her head--hands clenching. 

Arianne moves to the window, "Your Grace, please forgive the mess." 

Her hands clasp behind her back, bloody coin between her fingers. "Many would rather see me dead, than rule. It is a sympathy we both share, is it not?" 

Daenerys steps forward, and you move to the wall to allow them to speak. 

"It is." She states, voice hoarse. Her hands at her side and limp—as if she didnt even know how to respond. 

Daemon returns a few minutes later, hands on his belt as he watches her. 

"Y/N," arianne says, her voice low. 

"Princess," you whisper, "Your Grace," leaving the room to clean up.

Greyworm stood along the wall, his dark eyes softening only for a second. But he sends you a gentle nod, he knew the burden of killing. He understood what had to be done. 

**➳ ➳ ➳**

Princess Arianne joins you the next morning, she had watched silently at your restlessness through the weeks.

She walks with you through the hall, the jewels coiled across her stomach glinting in the sun. "It is said that grief is natural, death inevitable. But your Dragon Queen did not stay dead, did she?"

You teeth grit together at her words, you had forgotten how easily she could read your emotions. 

"You remind me of when things were much simpler, when Daemon and I were young and in love." Arianne lifts your chin, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Your grief is understandable Y/N, do not hide yourself from me."

You nod and look down at the stone floor, your body relaxing at her acceptance. 

She smiles at your relief, both of you turning as Daemon calls her name down the hall. "Princess," 

He mumbles into her ear before ruffling the top of your hair with a smile. You did not speak to Dany much over the next few days, your sentences light and kind. But you were alone in your grief, she had too much to mourn for already. 

You wait on the docks beside Arianne the day Daenerys decides to head for Kings Landing. 

Ships filled the harbor, so far into the distance you couldn't make them out anymore. A smile grew on your face with the thought of revenge. 

People said it was the Dornish temper that ran through you. And yet you would describe it as a  _ burning _ for Justice.

"Yara, prepare to set sail." Dany begins, ordering the ships to prepare to leave.

"My queen," Yara responds, a smirk on her lips as she begins shouting orders. 

You turn to Arianne, her dark eyes staring out to sea. Her silence was telling. She only moves to lift her hands to her hair. Pulling out her circlet—her curls falling down her shoulders as she holds it out to you. 

You swallow heavily, looking into her eyes as she opens her mouth. But no words come out. She struggles to say goodbye, hand grasping the gold jewelry. You pull her hand to your chest, your other arm pressing her to you in a hug.  She is stiff in your arms, her chest heaving before she wraps her free arm around your neck.

When you pull away Dany was looking at you with soft eyes. She steps onto the ramp, both you and Greyworm following behind her. 

Danys dead face returned that night. And you found yourself pacing the deck, unable to sleep. The night was silent, wind brushing softly against your skin as you watch the sea. You turn around at the lanterns being lit along the deck. 

Daenerys steps out of the shadows—curls wild against her shoulders. "You've been quiet," 

You nod to her, turning back to watch the water as she joins you. 

She leans against the wood, a gentleness on her face that you haven't seen in a long time. It made your heart warm, she deserved better than lies and the cold whispers of hate. 

After a few minutes of relaxed silence, Dany speaks. "Everywhere I turn, I have been betrayed."

Daenerys' hair was wild—tousled by the heavy breeze as she lifts her violet eyes to yours, "I trust you." 

You blink in surprise at her honesty. "I mourn  _ you _ Dany, I mourn  _ for you _ ." 

Danys eyes fall to the ground, her lips pressing together. She takes a deep breath and grasps a lock of her pale hair. "I thought about cutting it off," her jaw clenches, eyes burning. "I thought I no longer deserved it."

Her eyes soften as she meets your gaze, "But a man should know better than to betray a Dragon." 

You cup the sides of her face, pressing a gentle kiss along the corner of her lips. "And he will." 

Her lips are parted as you pull away, eyes still wide in surprise as you bid her goodnight. 

You spot Greyworm in the corner of the deck—he nods to you as you pass, a small grin on his lips at your exchange with Daenerys. Sleep came easily after that, even with your embarrassment at his knowing gaze. 

Yara joins aboard your ship a few weeks later. Daenerys had decided on her plans and you both would give her council. You were both sitting in Daenerys' sitting room, the windows open and breeze smelling of salt. 

"I never asked how you met her," Yara questions, her arms crossing as she turns her body toward yours. 

"It was no simpler a time than now, she has always been a Dragon—albeit a growing one." You answer, hushing as Daenerys steps into the room. 

Nodding to you and Yara before standing at the center of the war table. Dothraki move to the corners, silently crossing their arms as you stand and greet her. 

Her dress was blowing in the wind, hair tied in a looser braid than before—but her eyes determined. She was ready for war. 

You were discussing your plans of infiltration and taking back Kings Landing, when the subject of the Council who betrayed her came to mind. 

"The Prince of Dorne has been deposed for his betrayal, what of the rest of the Council?" You ask.

Yara nods, agreeing with your concern. 

Dany looks to the table, her hands splaying across Kings Landing. "I will give them a choice as I always have."

"And your allies? We kept our promises even after you were.."  _ Dead. _ You choke on the word, refusing to say it. Instead hugging your arms to your chest. 

Her brows furrow, head turning to Winterfell. She takes your hand with such gentleness that you almost forget you were in a room with others. 

Danys hand was gentle as her thumb brushes over your skin. After a few seconds she places your palm back against your chest, eyes on the map with a clenched jaw. 

Your question no doubt reminded her of Jon. The one that caused so much of her pain.

"In my failure, I have seen my weakness. Yet I still hope the people may come to understand that what I do is not to punish. But I will not reward treason, the North will remain under my rule." 

A smile lights your face at her answer, you were proud of her. Daenerys meets your eyes, a grin gracing the corner of her lips at your response. 

"I will let Princess Arianne know of your decision, if you will allow it." You ask, trying to avoid Yara’s curious gaze about Dany’s gentle touches. 

She nods to you, eyes not moving from the table. Both you and Yara leaving her to her thoughts. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive to take back Kings Landing.

Greyworm and you stood on the deck as you arrive in Kingswood. His lips curled in laughter as you make jokes about never getting on a ship again. 

"I might be able to convince you otherwise," a soft voice spoke behind you. 

Dany had a small smile on her lips as you turn around, ordering the ships to begin unloading. 

You take the hand offered by the soldier beside you, stepping onto the ramp to lead the Dornishmen forward. 

The eyes on your back were heavy, a part of you wanted to run back to her and stay by her side. But you turn and meet her violet eyes, sending her a look that held more emotion that you care to admit. 

Danys brows furrow as she tries to hide her worry, lips pressing together at your goodbye. 

The soldiers outside Maegors Holdfast were facedown—weapons still sheathed. 

Stepping over them, your soldiers open the Tower doors with weapons aimed. But you are met with silence instead. 

A figure was a few feet ahead, kneeling over a guards body with cloaked robes. You shove your arm in front of the soldier beside you, barring him from stepping further at the sight ahead. 

The figure stands and meets you halfway, but instead of attacking—the robed figure pulls down the cloak over her face. She smiles at you in greeting, both of you clasping each other's forearms in relief. 

"The halls are emptied My lady." 

You nod to her with a thankyou, having her keep watch over the doors as you and the soldiers move forward. More guards line the halls, and you find yourself feeling sorry that they had been on the wrong side. But their deaths were painless, fast. The rest were not. 

It was in the later halls that you found some of the Council members. Their faces were struck in shock, bile at the sides of their mouths from the poison.

You step over the men with a smile of satisfaction. Voices growing louder as you reach the doors of the courtyard. Your weapons were held tight as the doors open. You slip inside with your spear aimed--only for it to clash with a heavy sword. 

Brienne of Tarth was in silver armor in front of you, her jaw straining with effort. But both of you were struggling to keep the other pinned. 

You took the chance—kicking her knee and twisting your spear out of the hold to duck underneath her arm. 

She whips around with a frustrated look on her face, striding to you. Soldiers begin pouring in at the opening you gave them, their focus on King Brandon's men already in the room. 

Brienne reaches you again, her sword raising as a loud roar emanates above. Drogon lands on the side of the Keep, red and black body bristling in warning. 

You pull your spear back, watching Brienne and Brans soldiers' faces move to ones of fear. 

A smile curls on the side of your face at Daenerys' signal. The fighting had stopped at Drogons appearance, and you turn to face the remaining Council. 

Tyrion meets your eyes, stepping forward to greet you. "Y/N,"

Once, you might have greeted him warmly. But he betrayed you both with what he had done. 

"I have a message from Queen Daenerys Targaryen," You state. 

His eyes lower, voice holding no surprise as he speaks. "What is your message?" 

"The Mother of Dragons has come to take back what is hers. You have a choice--bend the knee," Your eyes lift to Drogon as you continue, "Or die."

His head dips before he looks back up at you, "King Brandon will need time to think it over," 

You nod to a dornish soldier behind Tyrion. Her copper armor glints as she grips his wrists, clasping chains around them. 

"Tyrion will be held for one day, at noon tomorrow we await your decision." 

None of the Council spoke, only watching as you turn and leave the Courtyard. 

Tyrion walks beside you, the Unsullied at his sides. He was silent until you left the Gates of Kings Landing, his throat clearing as he makes to speak at the tension. "How does Dorne fair? I heard it was not affected by the winter—" 

You stop walking, sending him a cold stare. Everything in you was aching to scream at him for what he had done to Daenerys. "She loved you Tyrion," your voice low, "Trusted you." 

You begin to walk again, the Unsullied and Dornishmen resuming their pace behind you. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

The soldiers greet you with nods as you pass through the camp, heading immediately for Daenerys' tent in the middle. You pull your hair from the tightly knit war bun, nodding to Greyworm as he eyes Tyrion with cold eyes.

Yaras eyes move to yours, then back to the ground with a grimace lining her brows. "I almost didnt recognize you with your hair down." 

Your brow raises in concern, "Is everything alright?" 

"The waitin' is always the worst part." She says, settling by the unlit fire. 

You heard her Valyrian before you saw her. Danys face is emotionless as she refuses to speak to Tyrion, her fingers waving for Unsullied to take him away. 

As the night went on some soldiers broke out in drink—others kept watch with extra guard. 

Daenerys was busy even as many were at rest. But you could see the heaviness in her eyes, the stress that came from the burden of so many lives on her hands. And you wanted to hold her, to tell her everything would be alright. You hoped. 

Yourself and Yara had been speaking of your homelands to pass the time, both of you refusing to talk of War. The night grew colder as the moon came out, and Dany finally came back to the nearby fire. 

Yara purses her lips at the time, drink still in her hand as she moves closer. "The nights cold, we could warm my bed—if you've a mind," her lips pressing close to your ear. 

You pull back from her, gently squeezing her forearms, "Forgive me, but I must decline." 

Yara nods—a small smile on her face as she begins to walk backwards, "Let me know if you change your mind." Turning around to walk to her tent. 

Dany eyes you from across the fire, her attention no longer on the Dothraki beside her. Eyes gentle as she bids him goodnight. 

"Khaleesi," he states, leaving you both. 

"Are Ironborn not to your liking?" A curious look in her smile as she moves closer. 

"I've interest in only one woman." You whisper as she closes the distance between you.

Her eyes widen at your confession, hand pushing your hair over your shoulder to cradle your neck. Those purple eyes search yours with need, a low gasp stuck in your throat at the want in them. She pulls your face close, small puffs of breathe warming your lips before she kisses you. 

Danys kiss is gentle, and her other hand moving to grasp your hip roughly. You lick your lips and press hot kisses to her mouth. Teeth pulling at the soft skin as you taste the spice on her tongue. You are almost drunk at the soft whines she gives. 

She smiles against your mouth in response—hooking her fingers underneath your armored breastplate and leading you backwards into a tree. 

You demand her attention, nipping down her neck as she presses herself against you. She pulls away with a moan, pressing your foreheads together in the cold. You give her a small kiss before she slips back into her tent. A smile on your lips as you leave. 

➳ ➳ ➳

Daenerys led the soldiers the next morning by foot, she wore a silver gown made of smooth thread—her shoulders and breastplate armored with three headed dragons. You praised her neutrality, knowing that even in her urge to be civil—she would not pretend she was not a Targaryen queen. 

A few hours after sunrise, the gates open. Brienne and Tyrion walking behind Ser Davos who was wheeling out Brandon Stark to deliver his decision. The tension was heavy in the wait of the King, and finally Bran and his council were only a few feet away. 

Drogon lands beside Daenerys seconds after, following her as she steps forward to greet them. "Brandon Stark." 

And as if he was her echo, Drogon spreads his immense wings and roars at them in warning. 

You move to Danys side, smiling as Yara does the same—both of you staying close to her. 

"You are here to take back Kings Landing." Bran states. 

"I am here to take what is _mine._ " Daenerys answers. 

He looks up at her, "I could refuse." his face emotionless even as he spoke the threat. 

Yourselves and the Council tense at his words, it was obvious none of you wanted more blood on your hands. 

Daenerys smiles, eyes moving to the ground, "You could," her face growing cold as she steps closer and meets his eyes before continuing, "And my soldiers will block each entry and exit. Your people would begin to starve. In months, fight over crumbs. Perhaps even kill each other for it."

You all stand silent, even Brienne was visibly troubled at the situation. And you whisper in Danys ear for permission before speaking. 

"You did not want to be King in the first place did you Brandon?" Gently eyeing him before continuing, 

You hoped he would remember that part of himself that was still a boy with a family. "Spare your people, let The Mother of Dragons take care of them now. As they should be."

Brans eyes were on the sky, there was still no emotion on his face.

It took him a good three minutes of heavy silence before he spoke, "Enough blood has been spilled for a Throne that no longer exists. I must ask one thing," 

He wheels forward, setting his hands in his lap. "I wish to return to Winterfell—to be in the North." 

Daenerys lets out the tension from her soldiers, a low sigh escaping her lips as she nods. "You will be taken home to Winterfell safely,"

She turns to the remaining Council, "The rest of you have a choice, bend the knee—or exile to the North."

Brienne stalks forward, one hand resting on the armored belt at her side. "If I may, my oath still stands with Sansa's mother—I would see myself return to the North as well." 

Ser Davos agrees, "Im too fuckin' old for wars, you have my loyalty—but I will see to it that the Starks remain in Winterfell." 

Daenerys nods, accepting their answers. 

Tyrion opens his mouth to speak, but she lifts her hand up—silencing him. "You have made your choice, Lannister." 

"Well, that was disappointing." Yara states, both of you following Daenerys as she steps past Bran and moves into the Red Keep. 

"Perhaps," you reply, hearing the footfalls of hundreds of soldiers and horses following behind. 

Yara moves ahead to her side as they step through the gates. And you take care to step over rubble as the people of Kings Landing step back in surprise. 

Danys hands clench into fists her sides at the peoples obvious suffering. They were in rags—selling food and trinkets to survive. And others begging for anything you would give them. Most cower back at Daenerys' presence, but some walked past her without any reaction. 

One woman holding a barrel of wine above her head, her robes were dirty and feet bare as she passes. But her eyes did not even glance to you, she just weaves in between the soldiers and stalls—continuing her route.

It was if they were desensitized to the pain around them and of themselves. You grit your teeth, your chest aching as you turn away. Staring at the back of Danys long braid ahead of you for distraction.

➳ ➳ ➳

"Are we leaving so soon?" You question, eyeing the horses. 

She nods, her thick braid falling over her shoulder and halfway down her back. "It is time for our journey beyond the wall." 

A Dothraki man holds a large white horse at Danys side, both of them speaking quickly as she mounts her horse. 

Beside Greyworm was another Unsullied soldier, he meets your eyes—leading a massive grey courser in your direction. He holds out the reigns to you with a nod.

You look at him in confusion, "For me?" 

He cracks a smile, dark eyes lighting at your surprise. "For you." 

You eye the blue eyed horse gently, taking the reins with a thankyou. 

Her hair was in thick braids over her neck, an intricate saddle already seated for you. You turn your head to meet Danys eyes, a smirk on her lips at your reaction. Patting the side of her neck, gripping the sides to heft yourself up onto her back. 

Yara moves to Dany's horse, her brows set in determination as they exchange words. Daenerys leans down and places a gentle hand around her cheek. Bidding her a gentle goodbye before clicking her tongue and ushering her horse forward. 

She watches Daenerys as her horse begins to trot forward, her eyes meeting yours as you nudge your horse to follow. Whispering a goodbye to her softly. 

"Dany," you began, guiding your horse closer to Danys, catching her attention. 

She turns her head to you, slowing her horse to match yours. 

"Should we not visit Winterfell?" 

Dany is silent for a few moments, her hands clenching around her reins. "I have spared the Starks my wrath, should I allow them a chance at stopping my revenge?" 

You understand her anger. The North was cold, and its people hated her. They did not see what your people saw. But Dorne was much the same in their eyes, and you were not unfamiliar with the pain and threats that hatred brought. 

"They do not deserve anything more, but perhaps exchanging words would ease the news of your aim to kill their brother." 

"I will consider what you have said." She answers, eyes moving to watch Drogon above. 

Resting on the sixth night was a relief. Daenerys had stopped the trek earlier that day due to the snow storm that had blown in. The camps were lit with fires, almost all of you hovering around them for warmth when the storm stopped. 

You stood underneath a tarped tent, a fire not too far away as Daenerys spoke with soldiers. Bran was in his own tent, Ser Davos had joined him not too long ago after cursing about the cold. 

Brienne stood beside you, her large form hunkering near the fire in silence. You were watching Daenerys laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She was safe here, with those that loved her. 

You look down to the snow covered ground, boot markings obscuring the white frost. 

"You love her," Brienne states, her fur coat brushing against you. 

Your head jerks toward her, her blue eyes wide as she smiles. But there was a sadness in them. You remain silent, looking to the fire before gathering your courage to answer. "You have lost the one you love?" 

She lowers her eyes, her gloved hands fidgeting with her sword at her side. "We have all lost many things." 

You frown, turning to her with a gentle heart. "Do not let your heart turn. Mourn Brienne," Your hand sets on her gloved one, "But know that there is still love here." 

She squeezes your hand gently, the corner of her lips curling in a small smile. "I should get some rest," she begins, "Goodnight My lady." 

Dany eyes you as Brienne bids her goodnight, she mumbles something to her before the woman walks away. You smile at her, watching as she opens the curtain of her tent—holding it open for you. 

Dany woke you with gentle words, her lips pressing against yours so quickly you felt you had dreamt it. 

You mumble her name in half sleep, eyes still closed as she laughs. And a smile remained on your face even as you arrived in Winterfell. 

Daenerys leads her horse through the large gates, the small bell braided into her hair ringing. Drogon flies overhead in warning. Soldiers walked beside you, and you raise an eyebrow at the scowls and shouting.

You step down from your horse, patting her side before handing the reins to an Unsullied beside you. Northerners spotted you easily in the crowd of soldiers, the Ginger gown you wore—interlaced with silver and snakes of Dorne. They would know that Daenerys was not alone, that Dorne was with her.

Sansa was stepping down the stairs with a cobalt blue gown—her gown embroidered with silver patterns and flowing behind her. Arya already stood at the bottom of the steps in waiting, Needle ever present at her side. But her eyes were boring into Daenerys and the soldiers, 

"Your Grace," She greets, her blue eyes searching the soldiers and carriages. 

Daenerys nods and steps forward, saying quick words in Valyrian. She met them with a dress of pitch and fur, a golden three headed dragon embroidered into the gown all the way to her boots.

An Unsullied leads a horse carriage forward, opening the door to help Bran down from inside. Arya and Sansa were visibly relieved, even Sansa cracks a smile as Brienne moves to take Brans wheelchair. 

Ser Davos greets them warmly, walking beside Brienne to the Stark women. Arya sends Bran a small smile, ruffling the top of his hair. 

Sansa's hawk like gaze softens at the sight of Bran truly safe. "Thankyou for returning them safely." 

"There has been enough loss." Daenerys replies, her words hanging in the air. 

The Wolf queen motions her gloved hands toward the Great hall, "Shall we speak somewhere warmer, Your Grace?" 

Dany sends her a nod with a smile that does not reach her eyes. They walk inside together, Daenerys being shadowed by a group of Dothraki and Unsullied. 

You pull your furs closer to your body, moving to stand beside a fire with Ser Davos. A while later Daenerys walks out beside Sansa, both of them tense. 

"We are to stay for the night and rest, she offers peace as we discuss my plans for revenge." Daenerys states orders to the soldiers, the horses being lead to stables and tents being pulled out to camp inside. 

The day was halfway over by the time the soldiers were done setting up. Daenerys had taken time to check on her men before the feast starts. 

She comes back a while later setting her hand on your forearm gently. You walked beside her to the Great Hall, her boots tapping the hard floors in the silence. The smell of meat and slice enveloped the hallway before the Great Hall doors were even open. 

Greyworm and another Unsullied step from behind her, opening the doors to the hall. 

The Stark sisters stand at your entrance. Daenerys steps inside—her braid swaying as she steps leads. You sat to the right of herself, the table parallel to the enormous fireplace. 

At Sansas table sat Arya and Brienne—instead of their backs to the fireplace they were facing Daenerys equally. You prided them on their tactics for respect, especially if this was to go well. 

On your side of the hall sat Unsullied, Dornishmen and Ironborn generals and soldiers. The other sat representatives and the few remaining Lords and Ladies of the North. 

You are silent as the dining begins, cups filled with wine and all sides tense. But as the drink flows so does loose and relaxed tongue. Daenerys had others taste her first, and ate slowly. Her eyes observing the room and listening as she drank. You sip lightly at the ale, wanting a clear mind for the meeting after.

"Are you not hungry?" She asks, her brows furrowing in worry. 

You meet her eyes, eyeing the dark blue scales of her gown. "I am worried,"

Dany nods, "Drogon is close, dear heart." taking your hand in hers gently. Warmth rises into your chest as she continues to hold your hand openly as the feast continues, her finger drawing circles in your skin. Both of you nervous for what was about to come next. But you were comforted to know that she understood what you felt. And would be there even if it ended with blood.


	4. The North.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Daenerys' visit to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always loved the Starks, and with this chapter--I went with how I believe Daenerys would have reacted in the TV show. (There is no death.)

After the dining was over, the tables were being cleared for the true reason for Daenerys' visit. 

Sansa's blue eyes meet yours, and with a nod she stands, "Your Grace, shall we-"

The Hall doors jolts open—voices rendered silent as the Princess Arianne strides into the room. 

Behind her were at least a dozen sellswords, the gold of their armor emulating the designs of her gown. 

You stand in surprise, kneeling to greet her. "Princess," 

Arianne joins you at the table, smiling at your greeting,"Y/N," she says softly.

"Khaleesi," she says, nodding to Daenerys before sitting beside her. 

All but Daemon move to join Danys soldiers at the tables, he moves to join you at the other side of Arianne. 

"Princess," Sansa nods, continuing her greeting to the Northern Ladies and Lords. 

"Her Grace has come to ask for peace between us, and take away the North's Independence." 

Many voices from Northerners spoke up at once, all of the mumbling about her motive and reasons—but Daenerys holds up her hand and slowly the Hall quiets. 

Sansas jaw sharpens at her silence, "What is it you need of us, Your Grace?" She speaks through cold lips.

Aryas face was impassive, the only movement she made was to look at Sansa for her reasoning. Trying to gauge what her sister was doing. 

But Sansa gave her no hint or emotion, only meeting her eyes before turning back to Daenerys. 

"Jon is your family, and as a sign of peace—I have come to ask for your blessing to take my revenge." Dany's face was cold as she spoke, her body trained to not portray and weakness or vulnerability. 

But you saw the tensing of her shoulders as she spoke of her revenge, the deep breath she had taken at the pain in her chest. 

And you grit your teeth at the fact that she was forced to relive her death for court politics. A part of you wanted her to slaughter the rest of those who had betrayed her, then they would see her true wrath. But the days of glory and vanity had passed, and Daenerys once again was left with only herself to believe in. 

At Daenerys' words— Sansa was silent, both her and Arya held no surprise at the queens demands. 

But at the actual statement spoken aloud, half the room erupts in shouts. Lords and ladies howling in rage. 

"What of the innocents?" "The children dead!" "Jon saved us all!" Simultaneous shouts of anger shouted from the Lords, your own soldiers silent.

It made you want to scream at them, to call on your soldiers and have them thrown outside for behaving like children. 

"Kill the bitch again!" 

You jerk at the Lord’s words—picking up your spear and pointing it at the heavy lord who had shouted. 

The man sneers as he looks at the spear—eyes flashing back to meet yours with a flushed face. 

Sansa lifts her hand—silencing them. "Calm yourselves, do not act like feral hounds in this Hall." 

Daenerys' lips press tight as she turns to you—her hand curling around the crook of your elbow. 

The soldiers on your side were also tense, the Unsullied in the corners gripping their weapons silently.

Arianne was quiet, her hands wound together as she tries to hold her tongue. But she held no surprise at your actions, in fact you were merciful at what she would have done to him. 

Dany coaxes you down with soft touches and fire in her eyes as she lowers your arm.  The hall was silent for a few moments before she turns back toward the Northerners,"I admit my transgression of Burning Kinds Landing. " 

"I had no knowledge of the Wildfire beneath the city, for such loss and devastation—I am sorry." Fingertips pressing into the wooden table. 

"But my remorse will not bring back innocent lives."

She meets Sansas gaze with fire in her eyes, "Have you not done the same to those who have betrayed you? Even when you loved them."

The eldest Stark fixes her eyes on her like a wolf zeroing in on its prey. "The North did not ask Jon for murder, nor did we plan in your demise at The Red Keep. You are denying them the Queen they chose." 

Arianne stands, her brightly painted gown burning like a beacon in the dim hall. "Were it another Queen, you—and your brother would have been killed for your actions."

"Daenerys Targaryen gave you mercy, especially when it was your tongue that spoke the whispers that broke the faith, was it not Lady Sansa?" 

Sansa opens her mouth after a moment of thinking, but Arya cuts her off with quick words. "I love him—Jon," 

Her voice is strong as she meets Sansas eyes, standing to address the Northern Lords and Ladies. 

Their posture softens at her words, it was clear they respected her as much as they did her sister. 

"I do not want a war with more of our people dead. Jon has made his choice. Do not let him take you with him." She sat down in her chair, leaning back with a grim face. 

You knew how much she loved Jon, and with her decision—she was forced to choose between The North and her own brother. She had chosen his death. 

They quiet at her decision, a few nodding in silence. 

"Your-My Lady," Brienne speaks to Sansa loud enough for all of you to hear. 

"Her Grace could have killed us all for being in the council, she could have kept Lord Brandon as leverage. Yet, she brought him home to you without harm. I could not say the Lannisters would have done the same." 

Minutes pass with tense mumbling and Sansa staring into the fire.

Finally she speaks, "The Lannisters are dead, and for that—you have my gratitude," she continues, "It is not an easy decision, Jon is our brother—and much more to others here. However Arya speaks true, he has made his choice. We will not interfere with your revenge." She affirms, clasping her hands together. 

Ser Davos stands at her declaration, greeting both women in the room before turning to Princess Arianne. "Princess, what news of Dorne?" 

She greets him with a smile, "Do you speak of Her Graces' betrayal, or of this alliance Ser Davos?" 

"Forgive my boldness. We all wish to know what Dorne's plans are?" He sits back down. 

You held back the snicker rising on your tongue. 

"Dorne deposed the Prince because of his betrayal to Her Grace. I now hold Dorne." Her eyes pass over the room, "The seven Kingdoms never truly cared for us, and yet we are here."

"We have suffered." She throws her hands out with her words, "It is time that we are given the respect we deserve, and we will Aid Daenerys Targaryen with Fire and Blood."

Daenerys and Arianne share a mutual look of respect.

But Dany did not hide her anger, leaving the Hall with tight lips and a heavy stride. You watch her meet Drogon as he lands outside. He senses her distress, scales bristling and wings spreading against the unknown threat. But his eyes were on hers, and it brings a smile to your face at his love for her. 

Princess Arianne curls her arm through yours, gaining your attention to speak as you walk through the halls. 

  
**➳ ➳ ➳**

You knock gently at Daenerys door, opening it at the lack of protest. She stood by the window, her back to you—braid falling down her back.  "Y/N," she greets, voice almost a whisper. 

"What is wrong?" You ask. 

"A dragon has no remorse, no second thoughts for what they have done." She turns to you—eyes red with tears,"But a Mother weeps." 

You rush to her side, cradling her face with gentleness you had forgotten you possessed. "We will find the sun," you whisper, "In a child's smile, in the stars that light the sky." 

Dany pushes her face into the crook of your neck as a reply, although silent—you can still feel her chest shaking with her cries. You clutch at the back of her dress, your teeth gritting together at her pain. 

"Will you speak to me of Naath, and the butterflies?" You ask, wiping her face with your sleeve. 

She nods to you, a laugh on her lips. "Yes," her voice still wavering, "I will tell you of Naath, and the butterflies." 

You kiss her cheek gently, pulling back to begin unlacing your gown. She watches you with her violet eyes, unweaving her braid and setting the dragon pin on the end-table. 

She waits for you before getting into bed, her hand outstretching silently to join her. You take her hand, folding your arm underneath your head to face her.

Dany pulls the covers over you, her hand grasping yours, "The Naathi people were gentle, and kind. They took us in with warmth and we shared many meals. At night we watched the stars, and there was no talk of war or death." 

Her pale hair was like a Halo around her head in the dim light. And you thought in that moment perhaps Daenerys was, the love that you had sought your whole life. 

She blinks slowly, purple eyes crinkling as she imagines Naath. "The sun was warm, and there were so many different butterflies. Blues and purples, such was the beauty of the Naathi people themselves too." Her face lights up at the thought, and you smile at her sudden happiness. 

You wanted to see her smile like this always, to experience life as she was meant too. Without pain and hate. But that was not a fate either of you had been given. 

"Missandei spoke to me of Naath.. It was as beautiful as she said." she looks down, guilt weighing heavily on her mind, "I only wish to hear her voice one more time." 

You reach for her curls, running your hands through her hair to comfort her, "And you will. When you are old and grey and surrounded by lemon trees." 

Her eyes widen, then close with the rise of a sad smile on her lips. Soon after she was asleep, and you hoped her dreams were of Missandei and all those she had lost. 


End file.
